


Not The Setting For Anything Illicit, And Yet...

by PumpkinWrites



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Couch Sex, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Other, Praise Kink, RvB Rare Pair Week, Sarge's first name headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 15:27:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinWrites/pseuds/PumpkinWrites
Summary: There’s a small pile of clothing on the floor, discarded rather carelessly, as two bodies move against each other on the sofa. He squirms underneath the solid weight of his current partner, hand pressed against his mouth, the smooth surface of his wedding ring cool against his face. A much more calloused hand grips his wrist to pull his hand away, his lover insisting with a chuckle that he wants to hear him. Good lord, the man sounds just like his wife. … oh goodness gracious, is it awkward to compare someone to your wife while you’re being intimate with them during her very noticeable absence? Well, yes, it’s certainly awkward, why did he even think that was a question?





	Not The Setting For Anything Illicit, And Yet...

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't nearly as good as my one other smutty piece I've posted, but whatever, I had a goal in mind. Some of Sarge's dialogue (as well as his first name) were provided by tumblr user airrichan!

The secluded little house is mostly quiet at this time of day, the mid-morning sun up and shining in through the windows. The cat’s asleep in a windowsill someplace in the house, and the dog’s very graciously wandered off to rest somewhere in the kitchen. Close enough to do his job if he’s needed, but far enough away that he was truly on a break. There’s a documentary about the dangers of residential living in the Victorian era playing on the television, they’re currently talking about how the metal eyelet turned the corset into a more dangerous garment by allowing them to be laced tighter.

It’s certainly not the setting for anything illicit, and yet…

“I-I… a- _ah_! Oh goodness… mmn…!”

There’s a small pile of clothing on the floor, discarded rather carelessly, as two bodies move against each other on the sofa. They’ve actually long since lost track of the documentary they’ve been watching, which would actually disappoint one of them if he hadn’t already seen it. Instead, he’s squirming underneath the solid weight of his current partner, right hand grasping at the cushions beneath him while his left presses against his mouth, the smooth surface of his wedding ring cool against the heated skin of his face.

“Don’t be shy now, darlin’. Ain’t nobody around to hear you.”

A much more calloused hand grips his wrist to pull his hand away from his mouth, drawing another gasp, this time followed by a whimper as his partner drops his wrist and twists fingers firmly into ginger hair, giving a less-than-gentle tug. It pulls his head back just enough to allow easier access to his neck, but his partner doesn’t quite utilize that yet. Instead, it just serves to coax hazy blue eyes up find to gray ones.

“You make such pretty sounds, Don. Be a shame to keep ‘em all to yourself.”

“Ah… y-you… _ah!_ ” He yelps against a roll of his partner’s hips. Good lord, the man sounds just like his wife. … oh goodness gracious, is it awkward to compare someone to your wife while you’re being intimate with them during her very noticeable absence? Well, yes, it’s certainly awkward, why did he even think that was a question...

His partner, suddenly, finally seems to take advantage of the access to his neck, and bites at it before he speaks. “... I know that look. You’re thinking about something too hard. Let’s see if I can’t get you to refocus--” Another roll of those hips, and his partner grins. “--Right here.”

He howls as the other man brushes a particularly sensitive spot inside of him, and he flails, planting a hand against the red undershirt shielding his partner’s chest from open air while his free hand scrabbles uselessly against the cushions. He grabs at whatever he can get ahold of, but while his partner keeps up his pace, he’s really not getting a very tight grip on anything. But damn it if he isn’t trying.

The other man chuckles, adjusts his angle to keep his attention on that spot. “That’s better.”

“O- _Oh_ , Aaron--!”

They continue on like that for some time, in no particular hurry, even as the documentary on the screen ends and the next one queues up to play. It’s slow, leisurely. Almost lazy, even. There’s no frenzy, nothing driving them to speed up the pace and rush toward a finish.

“Hello?”

Neither of them, it seems, had heard the door open two rooms over, nor did they hear the new arrival setting her things down and taking off her shoes and jacket. They _do_ notice, however, when she appears in the doorway into the living room. And when the redheaded partner finally turns his head and notices his wife standing there, he does give a startled, panicked yelp. He jumps, though he can’t go anywhere with it, considering that his lover is still solidly on top of him. Her hand is pressed to her own mouth, eyes wide with surprise as she glances between the men currently defiling her sofa. Well, the slipcover on top of it, anyway. But she’s strangely silent, especially for her.

“D-Darling! Y-You’re h-home early…” He swallows, tries to weakly push his current lover off, but it does absolutely nothing, and he settles back onto his elbows in defeat. He can’t formulate a further response, or even think to start trying.

Finally, however, she drops her hand, and reveals the bright smile behind it. Her eyes find the man on top of her husband, and she cheerfully greets him. “I didn’t realize you’d be over today, Aaron!”

“Can’t say I planned it. Figured it’d be a surprise.”

“Well, it certainly is! Although…” The woman breezes over, settling herself cross-legged on the coffee table beside them. Her smile is less serene and a bit more predatory as she reaches over to bat Aaron’s hand out of her husband’s hair, and replaces it with her own, twisting ginger locks around pale fingers. “I _believe_ I told _you_ to behave yourself before I left, precious thing!”

“I-I… n-now, Emily, that’s… th-that isn’t--” He has no words. His mouth works mostly in silence, only a few half-formed squeaks escaping him as his face goes redder and redder. This is all happening, he registers, not only while their boyfriend is still inside of him, but while he himself still has quite a noticeable erection. This doesn’t make it worse, but it certainly does _not_ make it any better.

However, the man above him just chuckles, addressing their newly-arrived audience. “Care to join us, little lady? Maybe let Don make up for not listenin’ to ya.”

“M-Me?! Y-Y- _You_ \--”

Emily simply laughs, and releases her grip on her husband’s hair in order to pet at it instead. “It _does_ take two to get into this sort of trouble, dear!”

“Well, you didn’t tell _me_ to behave.”

“... mm, he’s quite right, darling!”

“W- _What_ ?!” He sputters uselessly for a moment more, then slumps down off his elbows almost miserably and covers his face. They’re both the worst. He loves them so, so much, but they are, objectively, the worst. “Th-This is _entirely_ unfair. I-I’m… I-I’m being unfairly punished.”

“Aww, my poor little thing.” Emily leans over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We’re being _so_ mean to you, aren’t we?”

“Mmn… y-you certainly are.” He peeks through his fingers at her, just enough to confirm that she’s seen him doing it, before he lowers his hands entirely and lets his head fall back, turning his eyes upward toward the ceiling. “J-Just a-awful.”

“My poor, pitiful thing!” She clicks her tongue sympathetically, flowing up from the coffee table into a standing position in order to start pulling her scrub top over her head. She discards it onto the floor, well away from the men’s clothes, works on the bottoms as she continues to speak. “Now, really, you _know_ we’re expecting company this evening, and you’re absolutely _defiling_ my slipcover!”

“Just toss it in the wash. Clean it right up. Who’s comin’ over?” Aaron inquires conversationally, leaning back slightly in order to finally discard his undershirt. “Didn’t realize you were havin’ company.”

“Oh, Vanessa and Carolina are dropping by for dinner! It’s been _so_ long since we’ve seen them!” She finally discards her scrubs entirely, unhooks her bra one-handed and pulls it off to drop into her pile. “I’d say you’re more than welcome to join us, but, well. My poor, _poor_ slipcover.”

“Got group tonight anyhow. Pickin’ up Grif on the way.”

“Oh, it’s just _so_ lovely to see you two getting along, you know!” While they’re speaking, their partner shifts against the sofa cushions. He accidentally lets out a needy-sounding little whine, prompting them to look down at him, before Emily reaches to pet him again. “Are we _ignoring_ you, treasure?”

“Y’did sorta interrupt us,” Aaron points out. “Bet he’s real eager to finish.”

“Hmm, I think you might be right~” Emily toes the larger pile of discarded clothing out of the way in order to settle on the floor beside the sofa, leaning back in to pepper kisses across her husband’s chest while reaching down to wrap a hand around the more sadly-neglected part of his anatomy. His reaction is immediate, and he sets to squirming again. She giggles brightly, peering up at him. “Aw, there we are!”

“E-Emily…!”

Above them, Aaron starts moving again, and the squirming worsens, the whines and soft cries starting back up as sensation starts to overwhelm him again. He’ll start babbling any moment at this rate, and he knows that that amuses both of them to no end. He’s subjected to their torment for what seems like hours, with Aaron keeping that rough, steady pace and Emily smiling a little brighter each time another pleading little sound escapes him. When he starts to tremble, whether from his quickly-approaching climax or from the overstimulation sure to follow, he isn’t sure, he registers the sound of Emily speaking.

“You’re _such_ a good boy, precious thing. You’re doing _so_ well for us, aren’t you? Such a _good_ little thing for us.”

He can’t resist it when she does that. He knows it, she knows it, and he _knows_ she knows it. Aaron’s not much for saying things like that, not when Emily’s there to do it. So at least he’s being spared on that front: he’s not sure he would be able to handle it if they both started in on him like that.

“Would you like to finish for us, little thing?” she coos, slowing her hand and giving him a possessive little squeeze. “You’re so pretty when you let yourself go, you know. I want to watch. Do you want to let me see?”

He nods, almost frantically,  and he hears Aaron chuckling above them, though at the moment, he pays that no mind. Emily’s laughing too, and she leans up to kiss him, as possessive as ever as her hand speeds back up. When she breaks it off, she leans in close to his ear and purrs, “Come for us, little thing.”

Her voice shoots a jolt of pleasure down his spine, sending him tumbling and flailing over the edge as his mind stutters to a halt. He doesn’t notice Aaron finding his own end above him, or Emily letting him go, or even Aaron climbing off of him to go dispose of his condom and clean up. When he comes back to his senses, Emily’s still settled beside him on the floor, patting at his stomach with a warm, damp towel, cleaning up the mess he’d made. He can’t see Aaron anymore, but he also can’t really think too critically at the moment, so he doesn’t really question it yet.

“Are you back with me, darling?” Emily chirps brightly, reaching up with her free hand to brush his hair off of his forehead for him. “You were _quite_ out of it for a little while! Poor thing, you _really_ needed that, didn’t you?”

He nods, tired and foggy, and she giggles, popping up to give him a soft kiss on the forehead. He feels her petting his hair gently, and leans his head into her touch. It helps to clear his head just that little bit more, and he’s able to focus on what she’s telling him. “Aaron’s taking a _quick_ shower. And we still have plenty of time to wash our poor, abused slipcover before dinner! But after we get you taken care of and cleaned up.”

“... I-I’m… a-alright,” he manages, focusing on her and nodding. “I-I’m fine.”

“Well, let me get you some water anyway. Maybe a snack? Definitely a snack!” Two fingers pressed less-than-gently against his throat. “Your heart’s racing like a _hummingbird_ , darling, you don’t feel faint, do you?”

“N-No…” Does he? He just feels foggy still, he’s not terribly sure.

“Good! But we’ll keep an eye on you for the moment, I think, sweetheart. Come on, let’s sit up, I’ll get you some water and… maybe a chocolate bar?”

He just nods, and sits up while she breezes off toward the kitchen, still entirely naked, he notices. He won’t argue with chocolate, and besides, Emily knows what she’s doing when it comes to aftercare: she takes it quite seriously. And he knows that she’s likely going to be checking in with Aaron until he leaves, probably for the rest of the evening. When she returns, she pulls the throw blanket down to cover him, and presses a kiss to the top of his head while she helps him start on his water and chocolate bar. He notices, for the first time since he and Aaron had started, that the documentary series has long-since ended. The television’s been turned off entirely. But he doesn’t mind: he can watch it later. For now, however, he just settles in and lets her help him recover.

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise, it's actually healthy polyamory. I'm not sure if this at all reads the way I want it to, but I've been working on it for days and I'm just glad it's finally done and readable.


End file.
